I Will Follow You Into the Dark
by ScarlettWoman710
Summary: Maybe there's no happiness without an equal amount of sadness to balance it out. Maybe it's our sacrifices that allow our gifts to mean that much more to us. Tate and Violet AU


**Author:** ScarlettWoman710

**Title:** I Will Follow You Into The Dark

**Summary:** Maybe it's our sacrifices that allow our gifts to mean that much more to us. Tate and Violet AU

**Rating:** T

**Warning(s)/Kinks: **Language

**Disclaimer:** I don't own American Horror Story.

**A/N: **Sometimes I want to write sad things, guys. This is different from the things I've written before for a couple of reasons. 1) It's an AU 2) It's not really a happy story and 3) there's no smut. I had this idea a long time ago and it's just been gnawing at my brain ever since. I'm not in love with it, but at least it's done now so I can free up some real estate in my brain to start working on other things.

What you need to know - everything progressed as it did on the show with one exception - Violet lived. Everything else you need to know is answered in the story. The Addison section acts as a sort of prologue, that's why it's centered differently.

Also, you should listen to "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," by Death Cab for Cutie, as that is the song this story is named for.

* * *

><p><strong>Addison Harmon<strong>

The chairs we were sitting were uncomfortable. I shifted, trying to find a soft spot, but I inherited my mothers bony frame and my tail bone and hipbones pressed into the chair at all the wrong angles. The office was dismal, gray, with no windows and framed diplomas lining the walls. I shifted in my chair again.

My mother's fingers, thin and cold, reached out and rested on my arm. "Stop fidgeting," she said calmly.

"I can't help it," I grumbled. "I'm nervous. What's taking so long?"

She shook her scarf covered head. "Doctors are masochists, Addy. Trust me. They get off on torturing you, making you wait for them and giving bad news. He's probably back there jerking off right now, thinking of us freaking out in here."

_"Mom,"_ I hissed. "Stop it, don't talk like that."

"It's true," she said simply. "He's back there right now, trying to get off, moaning, 'Make them wait _five more minutes... ohhh..."_ she finished with a mock groan and a roll of her eyes and I couldn't help it, I started to laugh.

"You're ridiculous," I said, grinning.

She smiled, all cheekbone and brow bone through pallid skin. The chemo and cancer had eaten away so much of my mother. Her hair was long gone. Her skin, once soft and unblemished from years of staying under wide brimmed hats, is now dry and cracked, no red in her cheeks. The only thing left of what society would find attractive are her eyes. They still sparkled with life and humor while the rest of her body had wasted away.

She was still the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

The door opened and the doctor walked in, and my mothers facade briefly cracked. She reached her hand to her chest - smooth after a double mastectomy ten years ago - and briefly clutched at her skin before her hand dropped to her lap. The doctor sat in his chair and flipped through his folders, staring down at his desk, and he didn't even need to look up or speak for me to know that what he had to tell us was not good news. No matter what my mother believed, doctors are always glad to tell a patient that they've worked a miracle. I think people are drawn to the medical profession by the idea that they can play God. Nothing makes them happier than succeeding, than snatching back a patient from the grips of death. Two tears made their way down my cheeks before he even began to speak.

He finally looked up. "I'm so sorry, Violet."

My breath hitched but my mother was calm. "I knew it didn't work," she said, nodding. "It didn't feel right. Didn't feel like it was gonna take."

The doctor gave her a grim and sympathetic smile. "The cancer - it's spread too far, this time. We could keep going if you like. It could buy you some time..."

The corner of my mother's mouth twitched. "I don't think so, doc. I've gone through enough shit in my lifetime. I'd like to leave the world with little bit of dignity."

I was numb. I was lost. I was a ship at sea, drifting. My mother was going to die.

Her eyes slid over to me and she gripped my hand. "How long do I have?" She asked the doctor as she ran her thumb over my hand.

The doctor shrugged. "It's hard to tell," he said. "You don't have an expiration date."

In her typical way, she cut through the bullshit. "Guess, then," she said sharply.

The doctor's "bedside manner" mask slipped a bit before his sympathetic face returned. "Probably three months. Maybe a little more. You never know with these things."

She nodded and looked at me. "Could you give us a minute?" she asked, nodding at me. The doctor mumbled "Of course" and disappeared from the room, clearly grateful that he didn't have to comfort the dying woman in his office any more today.

"Addy." My mom said. She squeezed my hand.

"Mommy," I whimpered. I stood and she followed, and I fell into her arms. She stroked my head gently as the tears dripped down my face and onto her sweater.

"'I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry I have to leave you."

"Mommy, _please._ Please don't go!"

She chuckled, squeezing me tightly. "Don't exactly have a choice, baby."

"What am I going to do without you?"

"Go on. Just like I did when I lost my parents. You're a strong, beautiful woman. You'll be fine without me."

"No I won't!" I said angrily. "Mom, I can't live without you!"

She cupped my cheeks in her hands and looked into my eyes. "You can," she said. "You _will."_

I hiccuped. "What are we going to do now?"

"Get things ready. I'll sign the house over to you, make sure everything is as easy as possible for you once I'm gone."

I moaned, burying my face in her shoulder.

"And then, we'll go on vacation. Just you and me. Doesn't that sound nice?"

I sniffed and pulled my face away to look at her. "Where are we going to go?"

For the first time, my mother's face showed defeat. Tears slid from her eyes. "Home," she said softly. "I want to die at home."

* * *

><p><strong>Violet Harmon<strong>

The first time I had cancer, I wondered if I was being punished for my sins.

I had already lived in self-imposed exile for twenty-five years. It was my penance for so many things - for choosing Tate over my mother, for condemning her to the mental institution. For not telling my father what was really going on in the house. For not making more of an effort to protect them. For being grateful that I had lived when they had died.

For falling in love with Tate. For loving him still.

I knew that I deserved so much worse than the opportunity to live my life but hell is being without those you love most. I had managed to hide in the basement when the new tenants had moved in after my parents had died, only briefly coming out to investigate the music collection of the new teenage boy that lived in the house - and admittedly, to make Tate jealous. Once we had scared them away and had celebrated Christmas I realized exactly how difficult it would have been stay in the Murder House as the only living resident... and how little I deserved an eternity with my parents - forever young and beautiful, with no other focus but their teenage daughter. More importantly, I knew if I stayed it would only be a matter of time before I went back to Tate. Feeling his cheeks under my thumbs as I had kissed him goodbye told me everything that I needed to know about how much I still loved him. I didn't deserve that happiness either and I refused to put my parents through the torture of loving the boy that had raped my mother and effectively killed my entire family.

So I left. Went back to Boston. Got my G.E.D., went to community college, transfered to B.U. and got my bachelors and masters degrees in English, and went back to the community college to teach. I ignored the efforts of would be friends, would be lovers, and would be partners, choosing solitude instead. It was what I deserved - a life of loneliness while everything I cared about and loved was frozen in time on the other side of the country.

And then I cracked.

I let someone slip through my carefully constructed walls of barbed wire and barbed comments. Just once, just for one night, but that was enough. I got pregnant with Addison. I was in love from the moment I saw a little plus sign on the urine coated stick but I knew that there was only one punishment that fit the crime. I started the process to put her up for adoption. When the labor pains started I refused an epidural, wanting to feel each fresh wash of pain as it coated my body. When the doctor asked me if I wanted to hold her I almost refused - I should have refused - but I took her in my arms and demonstrated that I was not nearly as strong as I should be once again. I called off the adoption. She was mine.

She looked nothing like me and everything like her father - blond curls and dark brown eyes. I decided that it was a new punishment, this beautiful girl. I loved her more than I even thought possible but each time I look at her is a reminder of everything my life could have been, if things had been different for me and the only other teenage resident of the Murder House.

When I found a lump I thought it was my chickens coming home to roost. I would die when my daughter was sixteen, just as my parents had died when I was sixteen. They took both my breasts and told me I was cured. I was shocked. I was being given a reprieve. I watched Addison graduate from high school, watched her graduate from college, watched her get accepted to law school. I was so proud, and felt so lucky, so I suppose I should have known that it was only a matter of time. It wasn't until I had fallen head over heels for Tate that I realized he was a killer and a rapist. It wasn't until I had appreciated my parents that I had lost them. And now it wasn't until I thought that I had a chance at happily ever after that the cancer had returned.

And now I'm going to have to leave my little girl. I never deserved her in the first place.

I rolled over on the bed and reached for my laptop. Addy was downstairs on the couch. I knew that I should have been comforting her - and I would be, shortly - but I just found out that my life was ending. I needed a moment to myself.

I had kept tabs on the Murder House over the years. My parents had left me with a decent amount of money in trust when they had died, and I had done well for myself as a professor. I had kept a large amount of money in the bank so that I could step in and buy the house in the event that some developer planned to tear the place down. Luckily, that had never happened - I wonder if it even _could_ happen. Perhaps the same evil that had kept the souls trapped had kept the House tethered to the Earth, staying strong and unchanging even as the world around it shifted and was reborn over the years. The man that owns it now has a website for it - he rents it out out to various unsuspecting families. It must be a lucrative business. He collects first and last months rent and a security deposit for people that forfeit all their cash when they leave in terror after only a week. The website banner said the house was currently unoccupied. My face cracked into a smile. A lesser person would think that fate was giving me a break, but I knew the truth. The house was empty because it _knew_. It was waiting to claim me as it's own. It's been waiting since I left.

I typed an email to the owner along with a promise to send a bank transfer of funds. Once that had been taken care of I rolled over and pulled a moleskin notebook the size of a small picture frame out of my bedside table. I had gone to approximately one cancer support group meeting, more for Addy's benefit than for mine. The leader had given me a journal to "write my feelings as I worked my way through the grieving process," and then tried to give me a hug. I kept the journal, but got the hell out of there. I pulled my knees to my chest and opened the little book. _Dear Addison,_ I wrote on the first page.

I wrote and wrote to her, and then once I was done I heaved myself off of the bed. I was so tired.

"Addison?" I called weakly, sticking my head through the door.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

"Fine," I called back. "We need to pack."

Addison came up stairs, her brow furrowed in concern. "For what?"

"I told you sweetheart, I want to die at home. We're leaving. We're going to Los Angeles."

* * *

><p><em>Dear Addison,<em>

_I'm so sorry that I won't have as much time with you as either of us would have liked. It's not fair, sweetheart. But the truth is, life isn't fair. It's a lesson we all have to learn sometime. I wish that it was. Although, if it was, things might have turned out differently for me. I might have never had you, and you? You were worth it, my girl. You were worth all of it._

The house looked exactly the same from the curb.

I don't know what I expected, considering that I knew it hadn't changed - I had seen the pictures on the website to prove it. Regardless of the house's evil powers I supposed I had expected that time would have changed _something_ the way it had changed everything around it. The way it had changed me.

"Wow," Addison said, stepping beside me on the stoop. "So this is where you lived before you came back to Boston."

"Yeah, this is it."

She cocked her head to the side and stared up at the house. "Does it look the same?"

"It does," I breathed. I put my arm around my daughter and we walked inside.

We'd had a nice vacation, Addison and I. The first week after my diagnosis had been spent at the lawyer's office, putting everything in Addie's name. The house, all my bank accounts, my pension from the community college - everything had been taken care of. While Addie had packed I had taken care of all the things I knew she wouldn't want to think about. I had updated my will and teleconferenced with a funeral director in Los Angeles to pick out a coffin and a burial plot at the same cemetery as my parents. I had done everything I could to protect her from the experiences I'd had. Even knowing that my parents were going on, living and breathing in the Murder House, hadn't made having to deal with their remains any easier.

We had rented the house fully furnished. We didn't bring much of our own to L.A., but I had splurged on a moving company that had unpacked for us. It was worth every penny, I thought as I walked through the house. Addison had gone back to investigate the yard and the gazebo. I stayed inside, going from room to room. My hand trailed at my side, running my fingers over the edges of the furniture in each room. The house has changed only a little on the inside. The walls have been painted new colors, the lighting fixtures had been updated. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. I hadn't lived here for over thirty years.

I walked into my bedroom and felt my chest constrict. Here, and here alone, the house was exactly as I had left it. The walls were the same shade of blue, the same blinds still hung in the windows. Against all odds, the chalkboard from my youth had even survived. It hung on the wall, dusty, but there all the same. I briefly wondered if _he_ had kept it this way, scaring anyone away the second they had walked in with a bucket of paint or a screwdriver to take the chalkboard off the wall.

"Mom?"

"I'm in here," I called, staring at the chalkboard.

I heard Addison walking up the hall, but she wasn't alone. I could hear the echo of a second set of footsteps. I drew my head up, preparing for whoever my welcoming committee would be.

Addison walked into the room, accompanied by an old woman in a maids uniform.

"What are you doing in here?" Addison asked, looking around.

"Reliving old memories," I said, staring at Moira. She looked back, nonplussed.

"Oh!" Addison exclaimed. "Sorry. Mom, this is Moira O'Hara. She worked as a maid for the last family that lived here."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Moira said, sticking out her hand to shake mine.

"Hi, Moira," I said gently squeezing her hand. "My name is Violet. Violet Harmon."

Moira's eyes widened, and her grip around my hand tightened. "Violet," she breathed. Addison was looking at us through narrowed eyes, and Moira caught herself, dropping my hand. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "You just... you remind me of someone I used to know."

"I get that all the time," I cracked. "It's the lack of hair and breasts. Makes me look androgynous."

Moira gave me an uncomfortable smile and turned back to my daughter. "I can start tomorrow," she said simply. "I work every day except Sunday, although... " she glanced back at me, frowning, "if you need the extra help, I'm sure something can be arranged."

"Thank you," Addison said gratefully. "Mom, I went ahead and hired her," she said, giving me a meek smile. "This house is so big, and I've got to get ready for law school. I hope you don't mind."

"It's fine, honey," I reassured her. "You're going to need an extra pair of hands, and I won't be much help." As I spoke, I felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over me. "In fact, I think I'm ready for a nap now," I said apologetically. "I think I'll go lie down for a little while."

"Let me take you," Addison said, slipping under my arm to help support me. "Moira, do you think you can find your way out?"

"Of course," Moira said. She gave me one final probing look and slipped out the door.

Addison turned toward me, a worried look on her face. "Are you sure you don't mind, mom?"

"It's fine, honey," I said, leaning on her as we walk down the hall. "You need the help, and we can afford it." _It's not like she'll be cashing the checks we'll write her anyway_, I thought wryly.

"Oh, good. I'm so glad," Addison said, rounding the corner into the master bedroom. "She seems nice, and it sounds like she's qualified. Although, I think we're going to have to get her a new maid's uniform."

I sat on the bed, heaving my legs up. "What do you mean?" I asked tiredly. Her uniform had looked the same as it always looked.

"Well, I don't know where the hell she got that thing, but it looks like one of those trashy Halloween maid's costumes," Addison said, untying my shoes. "I don't know how she could walk around like that. I mean, she's gorgeous, but that has to take a lot of self-confidence."

The pieces started to click together in my brain. "How old do you think she is?" I asked, my eyebrow raised.

She shrugged. "I don't know. My age?" She smiled at me and pulled the blanket at the foot of my bed over my legs. "Is there anything I can get you before I go back downstairs? Something to drink?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Go. Just... do me one favor, okay? Stay out of the basement?"

Her brow furrowed. "Why?"

I gave her a small smile. "Scared the hell out of me when I lived here, is all. If you have nightmares, I can't really come running to your room to wake you up."

She grinned and leaned over to kiss my forehead. "Sure thing, mom," she said. "Have a good nap."

She walked over to the door. "Addy," I said. She paused and turned, hand resting on the door frame. "I love you," I said. She smiled. "I love you too, mommy," she said softly. She left and I leaned my head back against the pillows and closed my eyes. Before I could worry about whether or not my daughter would take my advice, I was asleep.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Addison,<em>

_I hope you were always comfortable with me, always able to tell me what you were thinking and feeling. I hope you never had to hide who you were with me. Just know this, because I won't be around to tell you in the future - I love you. I love everything about you. No matter who you become later on down the line, there is nothing you could do in this life that wouldn't make me proud. _

When I woke up, Moira was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Long time, no see," I croaked, pulling myself into a sitting position. "How's tricks?"

Moira gave me a sad smile. "Your mother was right," she said, resting her back against the baseboard. "She knew it was you the second that she saw you. The rest of us thought that maybe she'd gone around the bend."

"A mother always knows her own daughter," I said, thinking of Addy. I reached into my back pocket, pulling out my cigarettes. "Got a light?"

Moira frowned but obliged me, reaching into the pocket of her uniform and pulling out a book of matches. She struck one and leaned forward, lighting my cigarette for me. "You shouldn't smoke," she said, waving the fire of the match out.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, it will kill me, right?" I asked, taking a long drag. "I don't think you need to worry, the cancer took care of that a long time ago."

"What kind was it?"

I pulled my shirt tight, revealing my flattened chest. "Breast. They took both my tits but it didn't do any good."

Moira wrinkled her nose at my vulgar language and I grinned. "I haven't changed much," I said dryly. "Nothing does, apparently. Except for you. How come you let my daughter see you as a hottie?"

Moira looked taken aback. "I... I didn't know she could," she said, surprised. "I can't really control how people see me. If she saw me young, then..."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know what it means. I kind of put two and two together."

"Did you know?"

"No."

We sat in silence for a moment. "Are you disappointed?" Moira asked gently.

I glared at her. "I could never be disappointed in my daughter," I said sharply. "And I love her no matter what. I just wish she felt like she could tell me. I don't want to die with her feeling like I never even knew the real her."

Moira gave me a grim smile. "That brings me to my next question, Miss Harmon," she said primly. "I have to ask about your intentions. Why did you come back here?"

I flicked ash into the ashtray on the table beside the bed. "I think it's pretty obvious, don't you?"

"You're certainly not planning on dying here, are you?"

"..."

She shook her head. "Miss Harmon, you absolutely cannot do that," she said. "I know that it may seem to be an ideal solution, but there is no happiness here. Whatever is waiting on the other side, I simply must believe that it's better than this."

I sighed. "That's a matter of debate, Moira. Point is, I'm here. And I don't plan on leaving."

"Miss Harmon -"

"Go away," I said softly. She vanished. I ground my cigarette into the ashtray and rolled over and fell back asleep.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Addison,<em>

_Kids. One day, you're going to have them. They can be a handful - you had your moments, my little peanut. Just remember to be firm, and be honest. Kids can sense bullshit. And while it's definitely tough, it's always worth it. Children can be such a blessing._

"MOM! MOM! THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE HOUSE, I CAN HEAR IT!"

Addison came darting into my room, throwing herself under my covers. "Addy, what -" I mumbled, sitting up. Then I heard it. The clink of metal bats hitting against the walls. It got louder and then the twins came tumbling into my room, the bats dragging on the floor as they entered.

"It's fine, sweetheart," I said, stroking her hair. "It's just the pipes. I had hoped that somebody would have fixed it by now. Used to do the same thing when I lived here."

"Pipes?" she whimpered, snuggling into my arms.

"Just the pipes," I reassure her. "Stay in here tonight, if your scared. It's okay."

"Really?"

I narrowed my eyes at the redheads. "Stay," I said, pointing at them with my free hand.

When Addison's breathing had evened and deepened, I turned back towards the twins. "Listen, fuckers," I said in a low voice. "I know what you're doing, and I know who put you up to it. Knock it the fuck off, right now, or when I die I'll spend every moment of my afterlife castrating you with a butter knife."

One of the twins grinned at me. "You wont get the chance if we scare your daughter off the property and she takes you with her before you croak," he said, rolling the bat in his palm.

"That's true," I allowed. "But I bet there's someone in the house that would do it for me, if I asked. He'd probably enjoy doing it, too."

The twins exchanged a glance and their bats drooped towards the ground. I gave them a mean smile, knowing that they knew exactly who I meant.

"So stop trying to scare her," I said, wrapping my arms around my daughter. "And pass that message on to your little nurse buddies and to that fucking doctor and his wife, too."

They glared at me and turned to leave. One spat on the floor, the other knocked the bat against the door on his way out.

Little shits.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Addison,<em>

_I hope that you're happy, sweetheart. Wherever life takes you, I hope that you find so, so much happiness. I hope that you find adventure, I hope that you find excitement, I hope that you find contentment, and I hope that you find love. Love - real love - changes you in so many ways. Don't be afraid to let it change you, my girl. Open yourself up to it. Everything in this life is better when you can share it with someone else. Real love makes even the worst thing in the world worth going through._

The next ghost that came to me was a complete surprise.

I was sitting in a chair in the gazebo out back, sipping a glass of wine at ten o'clock in the morning. Addison had gone to the grocery store to pick up some necessities. I wanted her to get out of the house for a little while and I had told her to take her time.

Chad came sauntering out the back door, glass of wine in his hand. "Thanks for the booze," he said, raising his glass to me as he settled into the chair across from me. "The last couple that lived here chose to abstain." He rolled his eyes. "Fucking Mormons."

I chuckled. "How the hell are you, Chad?"

He sipped his wine. "Same as ever," he said dryly. "Enraged that the fucking landlord thought primrose was a good color for the guest bedroom. Pissed that there hasn't been another gay owner since I bought the place. At the very least, it would be nice to flirt with somebody else."

"Things not going so well with Patrick?"

"You could say that," he said, giving me a tight smile. "He's blowing your father."

My brow raised. "No shit. Wow." I took a long sip of my wine, holding the taste on my tongue before I swallowed. "What does my mom have to say about this?"

He shrugged. "She doesn't know," he said. "She's never gotten close enough to Pat to smell your dad's cologne on him."

I shook my head. "I didn't see that one coming."

"Me neither."

I swirled my wine around in my glass. "Any new ghosts enter the fold since I've left? I haven't seen anybody new since I got here."

"Yes."

I stiffened, and he noticed. "An old woman that died of natural causes about ten year after you left, and an eight year old girl that fell down the stairs a couple of years ago. No young, teen girls, if that's what you're worried about."

I said nothing, just stared at my wine glass. "Which is why I'm here," he said, sighing. "We know what you're planning. Don't do it, Violet. None of us would have chosen this for ourselves, if we would've had the choice, and that includes your little loverboy."

"Thanks a lot for the advice, but I'm not interested."

"I can tell," he said. "Can't say I didn't warn you. Forever isn't as romantic as you think it will be, is all I'm saying. You'd be surprised how quickly you're going to want out."

"..."

"And that's not the only reason, princess. This place ain't heaven, it's hell. Hell is repetition. That's all there is in this place. Every day, exactly the same, day in, day out."

"I'd rather find out for myself, thanks," I said wryly.

"It's your funeral," he said.

"It will be," I said. I lifted my glass to his and they clinked. We spent the rest of the afternoon in silence.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Addison,<em>

_I'm so sorry that you never knew your father. I know that I've been vague about him, and you deserved answers. I loved my dad, but I blamed him for a lot of things in my life - some of which he deserved, some that he didn't. It was unfair to you, but I took out how I felt about my own father on your father. I didn't want to bring him into your life just to have him disappoint you. I did everything I could to be both a mother and father to you. I hope I did okay._

It had been a month since Addison and I had moved into the Murder House. My day to day life hadn't changed too much at first, but as the days wore on I got weaker and weaker. It was hard to try to stay awake for more then a few hours at a stretch. I ate, sometimes, but never more than a few bites of whatever was in front of me.

Today, I was sitting in the warm bathtub, filled to the point of overflowing with bubbles. Addison had drawn me a bath. I could hear her chatting in the hallway with Moira. My daughter was afraid to go too far away with me so helpless. I had needed her help to sink into the warm water, and I knew that I'd need it again when I was ready to get out.

I had just closed my eyes when I heard a voice.

"Hiya, sweetheart."

I opened my eyes slowly. "Hey, dad."

He gave me a wide smile, and leaned over to kiss my forehead. "I missed you, baby," he said gently. "You're all grown up now. I can't believe it."

"Older than you," I agreed, giving him a small smile. "And I have a daughter."

"I know! She's gorgeous, Violet. And smart. I heard her talking to Moira. She said she's going to law school."

I nodded. "She's amazing, dad. I'm so proud of her."

"I'm so proud of you," he said gently. "You did great, kiddo."

My voice cracked and tears welled up in my eyes. "Where's mom?" I whimpered. "Why haven't you guys come to see me yet?"

He sighed and sat down next to the tub. "Sweetheart, we don't want this for you," he explained. "We were hoping you'd change your mind. This life, it's..." he lifted his head to stare at the ceiling. "It's not life, Violet, not really. It weighs on you, brings you down. Be brave. Be our brave girl, and cross over. Go see what's over there."

I smiled. "Already got the speech, dad, from Moira and Chad. I'm sorry. I'm staying."

He sighed. "I hope you'll change your mind, baby. There's still time."

I didn't fight him, just fidgeted with the wash cloth in my hand instead. "Are things better, for all of you here?" I asked nervously. I was too old for it to bother me, but I couldn't help it. I still felt like a little kid around him.

He nodded. He knew what (or should I say, who) I was really asking about. "He's never going to be better, Violet. I hope you know that."

"I know."

"And your mother and I are never going to forgive him, but we do understand a little better where he's coming from, now. This house..." he sighed again. "It changes people, when they're alive. I know it changed all of us."

"Is that how Hayden ended up here?"

He winced at her name. "I wish I could blame that on the house," he whispered. "But that was all me." His eyes were wet, threatening to overflow down his face. "I broke our family, Violet. I'm the reason your mother and I ended up here."

I twisted the washcloth in my hands again. "I can't let you take all the blame for that one, Dad. But I'll forgive you, if you can forgive me."

His breath caught in his throat. "I never blamed you, sweetheart," he said gently. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Dad," I said, tears slipping from eyes and over my cheeks. "When can I see mom? I want to see mom."

He shook his head. "She wants you to move on, babe. She wants more for you than this. She thinks if you see us, you won't leave." He shrugged sheepishly. "I wasn't supposed to come to you, but - " he gave me a small smile. "What can I say? She's always been the stronger one, between the two of us."

Just then, the door swung open. "Mom? Are you okay?" Addison said, looking around.

"I'm fine, honey. Why?"

"I thought I heard voices," she said suspiciously.

"Just me. But I'm ready to get out of the tub, if you can help me."

My dad gave me a knowing look and disappeared. Addison, having never seen him, stepped over to the tub and helped me into a warm bathrobe. I sighed. I was already exhausted again.

The house seemed to pulse around me. It was like it knew.

It wouldn't be long, now.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Addison,<em>

_I've done a lot of things in this life that I'm not proud of. Everyone makes mistakes, sweetheart. You're going to make plenty, just so you know. You should make mistakes. It's the mark of a life truly and well lived. It's only when we make mistakes that we can learn from them. The biggest mistake that I made was trying to pretend I was something I wasn't. I wasn't honest with myself about the things I felt. Live an authentic life, my love. Life's too short to live it for somebody else._

I was having a good day. I woke up with some energy - not a lot, but enough that I felt like I could leave the house. It was a surprise. Another month had passed since I had seen my father. I was already more than halfway through my life expectancy. I didn't know how many good days I was going to have left, so I told Addison that I wanted to go to the beach.

The air was warm, with a cooler breeze blowing over the waves to us every now and then to keep Addison comfortable. Being too hot wasn't a problem, for me. It hadn't been for a very, very long time. I was wrapped in layers of shawls and sweaters, my scarf wound around my head.

Addison was reclining in a chair, pretending to read a book. For all intents and purposes, it looked like she was scanning a thick law text, but I saw her eyes flicker over the binding to watch a girl about her age in a bikini frolic down by the water.

"That's a pretty girl," I said, gesturing to the girl.

Addison's face flushed and she raised the book over her face. "Yeah, I guess," she said.

I changed tactics. "Have you heard from Mark?" I asked, referencing the boy she had dated a few months back. They had never been serious - she had never been serious with any of her boyfriends.

She rolled her eyes. "Mom, that was practically forever ago," she said. "We don't talk. We didn't have that much in common, I guess."

I nodded. "You should find someone that makes you happy," I said firmly. "You deserve to be happy, sweetheart."

She shrugged. "I mean it," I said. "I want you to be happy, baby. Whatever that means for you. Whatever kind of love you find. I'd love you no matter what, you know?"

Her book slid down into her lap and she gazed out at the ocean. "Mom? We're you ever in love?"

"Once. A long, long time ago."

"What happened?"

I stared at the waves, mesmerized. The last time I saw the ocean in L.A., I was on my first date. "He wasn't who I thought he was," I said finally. "He wasn't a good person. And I knew if I would have stayed with him, it would have hurt my parents."

"Weren't they dead by then?"

I paused. "I still felt like they would know," I said delicately. "And it wasn't just that. I guess I... I guess that I felt like the fact that I wanted to be with him even after I knew what he was like meant that_ I_ was a bad person. I thought that I needed to leave so I could punish myself for feeling that way. And if I did, I'd be punishing him for being a bad person, too."

Addison looked at me, her eyes damp. "That's so sad, mom," she said.

I bit my lip. "But the thing is, Addy, I never stopped loving him. And I know that my parents would have wanted me to be happy, even if they wouldn't have approved of the person I loved. I didn't understand that then, because I was just a kid. I get it now, though, because I have you. They wouldn't have stopped loving me for my decision, and I'll never stop loving you for yours."

"Mom," she began, her voice trailing off.

She wasn't ready to tell me, I knew. "I'm just saying," I said, resting my hand on hers. "It doesn't matter who you love. Boy, girl, whatever. Love is love. And there is nothing, _nothing, _that you could do that could ever make me any less proud of you."

Her eyes were wet. She crawled out of her chair and over to me, resting her head in my lap and whimpered. "I love you so much, mom."

"I know, baby," I said, stroking her hair. "And I love you. Forever and ever."

I sat with my daughter on the beach until I was too exhausted to sit up anymore. I was eager to get home. I knew who would be waiting for me when I got there.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Addison,<em>

_I hope that one day you know what it's like to be a mother. I loved being your mother. I loved it more than anything I'd ever experienced in my life before or since. You were a gift, Addy. You ARE a gift, still. Always. You are everything I ever could have wanted and more than I ever could have deserved. I can't believe that I was lucky enough to have you in my life. You've made me a better person. I love you with all my heart, my girl. Remember that. There is nothing like a mother's love._

It was all I could do to wobble on unsteady legs to the bedroom. My eyelids were heavy, my breathing labored. Addison left me in bed and went to get me some tea. I was so out of it that when I saw my mother lying next to me, I thought it was a hallucination.

"Oh, baby," she said when I whimpered. "I'm so sorry that you're sick, honey. I'm so, so sorry."

"I'm sorry," I said, using the last bit of strength I had to crawl over to her. "Mom, I'm so sorry about everything. I'm sorry that I didn't leave with you when we had the chance. You might not have died, if we would have left."

"No, honey," she said gently. "Don't. I'm fine. And I'm happy here. I've got your father, I've got your brother. I'm lucky."

"If you're so happy, how come you don't want me to stay here with you?"

My mom paused. "Oh, sweetheart..." she said, her voice trailing off. "I do. So does your dad. But being a parent means doing what's best for your child, even if it hurts you." She brushed sweat from my forehead. "You know that. You're a mother now."

I sniffed. "I'm sorry, mom. I can't. Everyone I love is here, everyone but Addison. You, dad, the baby, Ta -" I abruptly cut myself off and looked at her guiltily.

She shook her head. "Doing what's best for your child, _even if it hurts you_," she said firmly. "I know why you want to stay, baby. I know that it's not just for your dad and I."

I swallowed. "I wish I was stronger, for you. I wish I didn't want this."

"Don't apologize," she said gently. "Love makes you do crazy things, remember?"

I nestled into the pillows. "I'm so tired, mommy," I said weakly.

"I know," she said. She snuggled closer to me. "Sweetheart, it's not too late," she said softly. "You don't... you don't have much time left. Leave. Please, Violet. Please leave. Go find Heaven, baby. It's worth it, I'm sure of it."

I shook my head, closing my eyes. "It's not. I know."

By the time I opened my eyes again, she was gone.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Addison,<em>

_Forgiveness is such a powerful thing, Addy. There are going to be people that hurt you. I wish that the world wasn't like that, but it is. When people hurt you, when people break you, you have to be stronger than they are. Try and remember that a sad little kid lives inside of all of us. Try and remember that everyone makes mistakes. Try and remember that, and then remember that to forgive is divine._

I was lying in bed and struggling to breathe. It was getting harder. It'd gotten harder every day since the beach. I had some broth and a small glass of juice for breakfast, but that was eight hours ago. I knew I should eat again, but I wasn't really hungry.

I felt the bed shift underneath me. "Hey kid," a voice said. I looked up to find Hayden, her red hair trailing down her back.

"Hayden..." I croaked. "What are you doing here?"

She gave me a rueful smile. "Came to tell you to come to your senses. Tell you I'm sorry that you're dying."

I try to find the energy to roll my eyes but they only went halfway up before fluttering closed. I felt the bed shift again and she was standing next to me, putting more pillows behind my head. The new position helped my lungs find their bearings, and I drew in a shaky breath. "Thanks," I said weakly. "That's better."

She nodded. "I was going to become a nurse," she said, pouring me a glass of water from the pitcher next to the bed and handing it to me. "I was just in your dad's class to get my psych credit. Shit never works out how we plan though, does it?"

I shook my head and took a small sip. "No, it doesn't," I said, trying to hand the glass back to her. She shook her head and gestured for me to keep it. "Have some more," she urged. "You need fluids."

My head fell back against the pillow. "Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked, squinting at her. My vision was blurry.

She sighed. "It's kind of hard to be mean to someone that's dying of cancer. Either that or death mellowed me out," she said dryly. "Being stuck watching the only guy I'll ever love living happily ever after with his wife can have that effect on you." I nodded, my head drooping forward.

She sat back down on the bed. "One day, your daughter is going to die," she said bluntly. "And when she does, she's going to be on the other side, or whatever. You won't be able to see her because you're stuck here."

"She'll have her own family by then," I said sadly. "A partner. Kids. Who knows, maybe the Hindus have it right and she'll be reborn and get to do it all over again. I was lucky enough to have her for twenty-four years. I'm not a good enough person to deserve her for whatever comes after." Hayden started to roll her eyes and protest but I held up a shaking hand to stop her. "Everyone else I love is in this house," I said softly. "I can't leave them behind. I won't. I'm selfish. Whatever is on the other side... I don't want it without them."

She toyed with a frayed thread on the hem of her sweater. "I was selfish, too," she said quietly. "I should have never come back here. I should have just been happy with my baby. I guess I thought that if I did, I could get your dad back, too." She gave me a grim smile. "I wanted it all. At least you're smart enough to realize that nobody gets _everything_ they want."

We sat in silence for a minute. "Where is he, Hayden?" I asked softly. "Why hasn't he come to see me?"

She gave me a half smile, her eyes warm, comforting. "He's here," she said, jerking her head toward the corner. "He's been right beside you ever since you moved in."

My eyes watered. "Why won't he talk to me?"

She looked down at her hands. "The party line is that you need to leave while you still can. He's not strong enough to say it, so he's just staying away."

"Asshole," I muttered. Hayden grinned. "He's laughing," she said.

"I miss you," I whispered, turning my head to the dark corner of the room.

"He knows," Hayden said gently.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Addison,<em>

_It's getting harder to write. I'm so tired. This will probably be my last letter to you._

_Please don't waste a minute of your life being sad. Please be happy. All I want, all I've ever wanted, is for you to be happy. Know that wherever I go, my love for you will survive._

_I've said everything that I needed to say, given all the advice that I can give you. All I have left to say is this: I love you. I love you so, so much._

_Forever._

Something was crushing my chest. Pressing down, flattening my lungs, making my heart skip and jump.

Addy was in bed. I started to call for her, then closed my mouth. I didn't want her to watch me die.

This was the end. I pulled in a weak breath, my vision blurred. I was gasping and choking but then, suddenly, he was there.

His dark eyes were on mine, probing. He reached down to hold my hand, but he had something else in the other. Black, small, flat. I heard the familiar sound of a dial tone and then the sound of three digits being pressed.

9-1-1.

"Tate," I gasped. He said nothing. He pressed the phone into the palm of my hand, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>I woke up in the hospital.<p>

"I can't believe she had the strength to call an ambulance," the doctor said. He didn't realize I was awake.

"Me neither," Addison sniffed. "Is she going to be okay?"

The doctor paused. "Her heart is failing," he said gently. "The best we can do is make her comfortable. She doesn't have very much time."

"I want to go home," I wheezed. Their eyes snapped toward me. "Mom," Addison said, leaning over to take my hand. "Mom, you need to stay in the hospital."

"Actually, Miss Harmon," the doctor said, scribbling on a pad, "If she would be more comfortable at home, there's no reason she can't stay there. We can have oxygen tanks sent to the house, set you up with hospice... if she'll be more comfortable there, she should go."

"Mom," Addison said weakly.

"Take me home, Addy," I said, letting my eyes close. "Take me home."

* * *

><p>The oxygen helped me breathe. In the days after my trip to the hospital, my mind was clearer, more in focus, than it had been before. I still didn't have much time left, though. I was getting weaker by the hour.<p>

Addison had gone to take a shower. I was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when I felt him stand next to me.

"I know you're here," I snapped. "You might as well let me see you."

He stepped forward, sitting on the bed next to me. "Hey, Vi."

"Don't fucking "hey" me," I said, leaning back on the pillows. "What the fuck was that little stunt you pulled, calling 9-1-1? What the hell were you trying to do, Tate?"

He looked at me sadly. "You know what I was trying to do," he said. "The right thing. I was trying to do the right thing, for once in my fucking life. You were supposed to die in the ambulance or hospital or something."

"Trying to get rid of me," I said meanly. "I know I'm not a pretty little sixteen year-old anymore, but I'm not some broken toy that you can throw away now that the shine is gone."

He shook his head. "How could you ever think that you're not pretty?" He demanded. "You're gorgeous, Violet."

"Yeah, bald and titless. I'm a fucking supermodel."

He reached out, pulling the scarf from my head. He ran his hand along where my hairline would be, cupping my cheek in his hand. "You're beautiful, Violet," he said softly. "Still. Always."

I leaned into his hand. "Don't do it again," I said firmly. "I want to die here, Tate. Don't make me go away."

"I don't think I have the strength to do it again," he admitted. He absentmindedly folded my scarf over and over again. "Why did you leave, Violet?"

"I had to," I said gently. "You know why, Tate."

"Yeah, I guess I do," he agreed. "So why did you come back?"

That was a much harder question to answer. "Because I'm sick of punishing myself. I punished myself for thirty-three years for loving you. It didn't make me feel any better. And once I found out I was going to die..." I took a deep pull of oxygen from the mask. "I decided I wasn't going to do it anymore. And if this house is Hell, I'll stay. Because whatever Heaven is, it can't be Heaven if I'm there without you."

He looked down at his hands. I saw a tear drip down his chin, landing on the cuff of his striped sweater. He peered up at me through his bangs. "Are you still mad at me?" He asked. His hands were curled into fists, his knuckles were white. He wasn't asking about the 9-1-1 phone call, I knew.

"No," I said. "I forgive you, Tate. I don't understand it... I don't think I ever could, really. But I forgive you."

His breath hitched in his chest. "I love you," he said, his voice cracking. "I love you so fucking much. And I'm so sorry, for everything."

I pulled the oxygen mask away from my face. "I love you too," I wheezed. "And I know."

He leaned forward and brought his lips toward mine. It wasn't a real kiss - chaste, no more than a peck - but I didn't have the air in my lungs for more than that anyway. His lips moved against mine, sending tingles radiating from my mouth through my chest and making me feel alive in a way that I haven't felt since I left this house over thirty years ago .

A rumble went through my chest and I pulled away, coughing. "Put this back on," he ordered gently, placing the oxygen mask over my mouth. "Breathe. Breathe, Violet."

I drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I'm okay," I said, patting his hand. "I'm fine."

He smiled at me. "You don't have long now," he said. "The house can feel it. Can you?"

I nodded. I felt the pulse of the house, as if it had a heartbeat. It was steady, even as my own heartbeat was faltering.

"I don't know what I'm going to look like," I warned him. "I might look like this forever."

"You're gorgeous," he said. He slid up to sit on the bed behind me, then pulled me up against him so I was resting on his chest. "You could be a hundred and I'd still think you were pretty."

"Yeah, but the lack of boobs has got to take some getting used to," I said, snuggling against him.

His hands trailed down my flat chest, and I felt little sparks of electricity everywhere that his fingers touched. "I don't mind," he murmured. "When did this happen?"

"About sixteen years after Addison was born."

He paused, letting his hands rest over mine. "Addison?"

"After your sister," I said softly. "She was the closest thing I ever had to a friend."

He was quiet for a minute. "And her father?" he asked. He was tense, I could feel him beneath me.

I swallowed. "Just a boy in one of my classes," I said. "When I saw him, he looked so much like you... I broke down. I was so lonely. He had curly blond hair and these dark brown eyes that seemed to look right through you. He was even wearing a Nirvana t-shirt." I laced my fingers through his. "I missed you so much. I guess I thought it would make me feel better, but it just made me miss you more."

I could feel him relax. "So she looks like him?"

"She looks like _you,_" I said pointedly. "She's the family we should have had."

He held me tighter against him. "She's a beautiful girl, Violet. And kind. You did such a good job with her."

"Thank you," I said. I nuzzled into him.

The door cracked and Addison came in the room. "Mom?" she asked, and then smiled when she saw me. "You must be feeling better. You're sitting up!"

"She can't see me," Tate murmured in my ear. She couldn't see him supporting me, so to her, I was sitting up.

"Yeah," I said. I patted the bed next to me. "C'mere. Sleep in here tonight."

"Okay," she said, padding over to the bed. She was all grown up, but she was still my little girl. My baby.

She crawled into bed next to me, snuggling up to my side, and closed her eyes. Tate looked down at her, finding my features on her face. "Wow," he breathed, gazing at her.

"I know," I whispered.

"What?" Addison murmured, curling into me.

"Nothing," I said stroking her hair. "I love you so much, honey. So much."

"I love you too," she muttered, falling into a deep sleep.

I lay in bed, Tate gently running his hands over my arms, his soft breath against my cheek, while I stroked my daughters hair. I could stay there forever, cuddled between my past and my future, but it wasn't meant to be.

I felt my heart laboring in my chest, thudding irregularly.

"Will it hurt?" I asked, an edge of panic in my voice.

"No," he said gently. "I promise."

"Tate, I'm scared," I whimpered.

"It's okay, Violet," he whispered in my ear, taking my hand in his. "Let go. Just let go. I'm here."

I squeezed his hand back and looked at my daughters face, and closed my eyes for the last time.

* * *

><p>I woke up the next morning in a different room. I woke up as a different person.<p>

The first thing I felt was my hair, blowing across my face as a breeze swept in through the open window in the bedroom that used to be mine. It tickled, but the hair was unmistakably mine. I could see the honey-colored strands when my eyes drifted open.

The next thing I felt was my breasts, firm and whole, under my t-shirt. My right hand drifted up my side and grazed the swell of my breast. I gave a small, relieved laugh, exhaling into the pillow. I looked at my hand. It was not the hand of a forty-nine year old woman. It was the hand of a sixteen year old girl.

The third thing I felt was Tate's arms, heavy and strong, wrapped around my waist.

I rolled over to face him. His eyes bore into mine.

"I'm still me," I said. My voice cracked and I felt tears stinging my eyes.

"You are," he said softly, pushing my hair behind my ear. "How do you feel?"

"Good," I said. "I haven't felt good like this in -" I started chuckling. "Well, since I was sixteen," I finished. "I guess your health isn't something you appreciate until it's gone, right?"

He nodded. Suddenly, I heard the hum of voices from the first floor, and my heart twisted in my chest. "Addy?" I asked, worried.

"She's okay," he reassured me. "Well, as okay as she can be. Moira stayed with her when she found you. She called the ambulance... the coroner is just leaving now, I think."

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "I want to see her. I want to tell her I'm okay, but I know I shouldn't. I know she'd never leave if I talked to her." I gave him a small smile. "Hell, I don't even know if she'd recognize me anyway."

He pulled me closer. "Are you happy, Violet?" He asked. I could hear the worry in his voice.

I couldn't say yes. My death was too recent, my daughter's pain was too real. "I'm happy that I decided to stay with you," I said honestly. It was the most truthful answer I could give.

"I love you so much," he said. His voice was raw with the emotion of the words, of our reunion.

"I love you too," I said. I leaned forward and brought my lips to his. And in spite of all the ways my heart was broken, I could feel it beating again as his tongue swept against mine, as his hands held me closer to him, as his teeth nipped my lower lip.

He broke away. "Violet," he said, his voice full of want.

"I know," I murmured. "Soon. I promise. After Addy leaves."

He nodded. "I understand," he said, running his nose against mine. "Do you want to see her?"

"Yes," I said. "But I don't think I can. I don't think I'm strong enough to be near her and not reach out to her."

"You're the strongest person I know," he said. "You can do it, Violet. And I'll be right beside you the whole time."

"Promise?"

He grinned, his dimples dotting his cheeks, the expression making his eyes twinkle, turning him into the boy I fell in love with so many years ago. "I've waited thirty-three years for you to come back," he said. "I don't think I'm ever going to leave your side again."

* * *

><p>We watched my daughter mourn. We watched her grieve.<p>

True to his promise, Tate stood by my side the whole time. I couldn't have made it through without him.

All of my arrangements had been worth it. The coroner had been given prior instructions and had contacted the funeral home that I had chosen. The funeral director had taken it from there, handling all the details. After it was all over, Addison had packed our belongings into boxes. The day that the movers were supposed to come, she had lay in bed, reading through the journal of letters I'd written to her, tears dripping down her face.

"I wish I could help her, somehow," I said. My heart broke for my daughter.

"I think you did," he said, nodding at her. "Look. She's smiling."

She was. It wasn't a smile of happiness, not the true smiles that I had seen light up her face over the years. It was a smile that meant that she knew she was loved.

* * *

><p>When she left, I felt my heart break all over again.<p>

I watched from the window, tears streaming down my face. This must have been how my parents felt, watching me leave for the last time.

Tate's strong arms wrapped around me from behind. He pulled me close, kissing my cheek. "She'll be fine," he murmured. "She's a strong girl, Vi. She'll be okay."

"I know," I said. I did. We watched her walk down the sidewalk, giving a last glance at the house before she got in the cab to drive away.

I choked on a sob. "I love you," I said to her, my fingers pressed against the glass.

She didn't look back again.

I turned away from the window, curling into Tate's chest. "What do you want to do now?" he asked, his lips pressed against my head. I looked up at him, staring up at him as he gazed at me. The love in his eyes was so intense that it was staggering. "Anything," I said, smiling through my tears. "Everything."

Maybe there's no happiness without an equal amount of sadness to balance it out. Maybe it's our sacrifices that allow our gifts to mean that much more to us. I would never forget my daughter, never stop worrying about her or missing her, and never stop loving her, but I had found peace. I was home.

* * *

><p><strong>RECS:<strong>

**TheDevotchka.** Anything and everything they write. _Tate's Conscience _and _The Noble War _are the author's two main pieces right now, and holy shit if they're not fucking amazing.

**The Walking Reedus** is back in a big fucking way, guys. She's returned to updating _Possession _and did a new one-shot called _Tell Me To Go Away._ If you like vanilla and sweet Violate stories, these are not for you. If you like hot, naughty, kick-ass, DARK! Tate stories with a BDSM twist, these are everything that you've been looking for and more. I know they're not for everyone, but I love the ever living hell out of them - and let's be honest, there's enough of us writing lovey dovey Violate stories. We need a little darkness to balance our fandom out.

**Kristybelle** has some new drabbles: _Wouldn't It Be Nice_ and _Scars: A Series of Drabbles._ They're wonderful, and I can't wait for the next one.

**Gray Glube, **my muse, wrote a sequel to DABDA called ADPIE. It hurts to read, in a good way, and like I said in my review for the story it's hot like a slow burn. It's a must read, but all of her stories are a must read.

**Ohyellowbird** collabed with **whodreamedit** and wrote a Tate/Leah Tate/Violet story called _Yayo._ Do not be squicked by the Tate/Leah. It is completely necessary and fits the story so well, it's crazy fucking hot, and you'll be glad you read it.

_Oh, How It Burns _by **applythepressure **is amazing and demands to be read. Do it. So is _We Are Golden _by **shootingstella. **Read and leave reviews for all of the above mentioned authors!

Finally, a shameless plug. **Ohyellowbird** and I have been "collabing", I use that term loosely because all of the amazingness written so far has been hers with just a litlte input from me, on _The Curve of Her Lips_. I've been crazy busy at work, had my super secret! exchange fic that I was working on, and had this story festering in the back of my head, so I've been useless collab wise. Now that things have loosened up in my real life however, I've got ideas. I'm writing away right now, and I know that ohyellowbird has all kind of ideas, so check it out!


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